


The Way I Tend To Be

by lukeyboy



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Bullied Ashton, Bullying, Depression, F/M, Homophobic Language, M/M, Popular Luke, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Trigger warning: self–harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeyboy/pseuds/lukeyboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> cliche high school au where ashton is bullied, and luke is popular. their paths cross when luke finds ashton crying on the corridor floor.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, uhm, this is my first fanfiction so please be kind. i don’t really know what i’m doing. 
> 
> if you’re easily triggered, please read this with caution. stay safe, okay? and comments and kudos are always appreciated!

**chapter one.**

Waves of unbearable pain washes over Ashton, and he curls up into fetal position on the dirty corridor floor, trying to make himself smaller, as the kids in the circle throw punch after punch, on his face, ribs, stomach. His entire body is aching, and it hurts to move, and his vision is starting to blur around the edges. Stars dance across his eyelids, like little blinking lights.

He doesn’t deserve this, he really don’t. Why do they hate him? What has he done to make these people hate him so much? Ashton hears one more insult, feels one more kick on his bruised ribs, before he hears them retreat and walk noiselessly down the empty corridor, leaving him alone. Ashton sighs in relief. He’s mildly aware that he’s crying, sobbing quietly, and he clenches his eyes shut tightly. Wills himself to relax, take deep breaths.

It’s silent, most students have gone home for the day. Those who haven’t, are probably studying in the library. He’s all alone, and that’s more than okay for him. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. That would just be humiliating.

“Are you okay?” A kind voice says from behind him, and Ashton cranes his neck, surprised, a bit frightened. 

His eyes widens momentarily, his mouth goes dry and he gasps, although quietly. Luke Hemmings, the most popular guy in school — is standing there, wearing black skinny jeans, a red flannel, and his hair styled into his signature quiff. His expression is concerned, his lips set in a thin line, as he looks down at Ashton laying bloody and bruised on the floor. Suddenly, Ashton is feeling very insecure about his appearance. Luke is fucking gorgeous, flawless, and everything about Ashton is disgusting and wrong. He’s disgusting with his scars that litter his arms and legs. He owns a mirror and he knows that he’s not beautiful. He’s ugly and pale and his hair looks weird, even though he tries to make it look somewhat decent. His face consists of awkward angles, and don’t get him started on his disgusting, thick thighs.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks worriedly. 

“G—g—go awa—y,” Ashton stutters out through a constricted throat, forcing the words to come out, his voice shaky. This is like a nightmare scenario, embarrassing himself in front of his crush. 

Ashton winces in pain, his chest hurting, as he clumsily scrambles to his feet, his legs feeling like jelly. Nausea crawls up the back of his throat and he tries to swallow it back down, but it doesn’t work and he doubles over, gags and sputters and coughs as he empties the contents of his stomach on the floor. It splashes everywhere, and he almost pukes again at the sight of his own vomit.

He feels sorry for whoever has to clean that up later, and he would feel guilty, if he wasn’t so tired.

Ashton inhales shakily, and frowns in disgust as he wipes the puke off with his shirt—sleeve. There’s a hand on his back, making small circles, gently rubbing up and down his spine. It’s comforting, and Ashton sighs in content as he leans into the touch, almost instinctively.

“Come on, I can drive you home, or do you want me to drive you to the hospital? You might got a concussion, or something, I don’t know.”

Biting his lower—lip, pondering, he looks down at his feet quickly, his wavy fringe falling over his eyes. Ashton fidgets anxiously, as he can feel Luke’s burning gaze on his neck. He’s pretty sure that he’s blushing furiously, cheeks tinted dark red, sweating and trembling, as he finally speaks in a quivering voice. 

“I’m f—fine, just felt sick to my stomach, is all!” Ashton is not really that worried, it has happened before, vomiting because the anxiety and fear gets too overwhelming for him to handle. 

“Okay, fine, if you’re sure...” Luke trails off uncertainly, then adds quickly, “I’m still driving you home though, you’re in no state of walking or taking the buss home alone.”

Ashton just nods meekly, too tired to argue and resist.

Luke wraps his arm around Ashton’s shoulder, supporting him as Ashton limps out of the school and to the parking lot. Ashton really shouldn’t be so nervous, but he can’t help it. Ashton is not used to kindness, and Luke being popular and ridiculously handsome isn’t helping to calm his nerves. 

During the car drive, Luke is rather talkative, singing along to the songs playing on the radio, and chatting animatedly about football practices, how his friend Michael is a dick, while Ashton keeps silent, doesn’t say a word, expect when Luke asks for directions to his house. Ashton doesn’t want to embarrass himself further. 

About 10 mintues later, Luke smoothly parks beside the sidewalk, and turns off the engine. Ashton is jittery, can’t sit still. Luke’s presence is making him self—conscious, and majorly nervous, and he wants to leave the car as soon as possible. 

“Uhm,” Ashton awkwardly starts, unsure of what to say. “Bye!” With flaming cheeks, he urgently opens the door and as he’s about to get out, he feels a hand grasp his wrist in a quite excruciating hold, and hauls him back. Ashton winces in pain and breathes in sharply through his nose at the sudden pressure on his fresh cuts, but Luke doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just shrugs it off as something else.

“Uh, wait, erhm, are you going to be okay now?”

Slowly, Ashton turnes his head and gives Luke an exasperated look. Ashton’s stomach does somersaults, despite being annoyed as fuck. 

Luke stares at Ashton wonderingly, and his mouth curves into a soft smile as he waits for Ashon’s response. The sight is beautiful, and Ashton’s probably never going to see anything as beautiful as Luke’s smile. Ashton can’t help but smile back a little, although with pursed lips, because showing his teeth makes him feel insecure. 

“I’m f—fine, really,” Ashton insists, and Luke narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Luke replies after a minute or two, and sighs like Ashton’s being difficult on purpose.

“What’s your name?” Luke then asks, and lets go of his wrist when he notices how much Ashton’s wriggling and trying to break free.

Ashton rubs his aching wrist with his hand, frowning in confusion at Luke’s idle question. What does Luke want? Luke is not obligated to be nice to him, just because he found him in such a fragile state. Ashton doesn’t want Luke’s pity, doesn’t want Luke to feel sorry for him. Ashton can take care of himself, and he’s used to dealing with his shit alone.

“‘M Luke.”

“I know.” A short pause. “I’m Ashton.”

“Goodbye, Luke,” Ashton says very quietly, before he opens the door, gets out, slams it shut, and marches off to the house, and goes inside. As his heartbeat drums in his ears, he rests his head against the door, grabbing fistful of his hair and tugging roughly.

 _Fuck_.

Luke Hemmings has acknowledged his existence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, uhm, here is chapter 2. it took a while, i know, but i’ve been busy and sad. life is not treating me well. also, this chapter sucks, and i can’t write, but i try. 
> 
> ughmmm, yeah, that’s all i have to say.

**chapter two.**

When Ashton walks down the corridor, clutching his books to his chest, he gets shoved into a locker harshly. He yelps in surprise, a hiss of pain leaves his lips, and drops his books. The books flies everywhere and scatters across the ground. Snickers erupts around him. Everybody are staring — either in pity or amusement — and Ashton can feel their eyes like they are emitting heat. Ashton flushes, and quickly fumbles to collect his books with slightly shaking fingers. He tries his best to look unbothered, like he doesn’t care if people treat him badly, but he knows that he’s not fooling anyone. There are burning tears in his eyes, a lump in his throat. 

“Faggot!” One of them yells, and then they leave, their loud voices echoing in the corridor. 

Ashton hates the word faggot — it makes his stomach lurch in shame, his eyes sting. Sometimes, he really hates himself for being gay, he knows he shouldn’t, but everything would be so much easier if he was heterosexual — no shame, no judgment, no hatred. He would fit in, blend into the crowd, and he wouldn’t be a target for bullies. 

Ashton frowns sadly, and begins slowly to walk to the library, his sanctuary, the place where he can rest and relax for a while, read a book in peace. A few moments later, Ashton is sitting on soft couch near a window with purple curtains, a bookshelf hiding him from being seen, out of view. Sighing contentedly, he flips a page, and listens to the wind howling outside, the tree—branches smacking against the window. 

Someone clears their throat in front of him. Ashton glances up, confused, and his heart starts beating faster. 

“Hi!” Ashton splutters, tripping over his words, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Luke grins, and pulls out a creaking chair, and sits down. Luke folds his arms across his chest, and crosses his legs at his ankles. “Hi.”

“Whatcha reading?” Luke asks curiously, and leans closer. Luke looks good today, Ashton thinks, as he subtly checks him out, his eyes flickering up and down. A black tight—fitting t—shirt clings to his broad shoulders and chest, faintly showing the outlines of a toned stomach underneath. Ashton swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Uh—,” Ashton trails off, his ability to speak faltering when he looks into Luke’s blue eyes. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit. Usually, he doesn’t wear his glasses, but today he had a major headache. He always uses contacts — it’s safer that way, the bullies can’t take his glasses and break them. It has happened before, and it’s a pain in the ass, and also scary, to walk home with blurry vision. 

“What?” Luke prompts. 

“I’m just re—reading the philosopher’s stone,” Ashton admits shyly, as he looks down at his lap where his hands are wriggling, fiddling with a loose thread in his sweater. 

“Good choice, I love Harry Potter!” Luke tells him excitedly, and beams, eyes shining, and then he starts to ramble about how upset he is that Harry named his son after Snape, who waa an asshole that treated him like shit his entire life.   

Ashton nods dumbly in agreement, not trusting his voice, but he’s fine being the one listening. He’s not really a talker anyways. 

They sit in the library for hours, and the hours pass quickly when Luke talks and rants about everything, from subjects as animal—rights to favorite food. He should run out of air, Ashton muses, as he watches him, intrigued, captivated by the way Luke gets this glow around him when he talks about something he’s passionated about. Every time Luke cracks a shitty joke that makes Ashton muffle a giggle into his fist, Luke looks so proud over himself — satisfied, and Ashton’s heart clenches. For once in his life, it feels like maybe someone gives a shit about him — if he smiles or not, if his face is bloody and bruised, if he looks lonely sitting by himself — and it’s a great feeling, really, to not feel like he’s shit scraped off of the bottom of someone’s shoe. It’s maybe not a big deal for other’s when someone you don’t know starts interacting with you, but it is for Ashton, who has been lonely for quite some time, and craves social interaction. 

After they both realized that it was getting pretty late and that they need to go home and do homework, or in Luke’s case, attend football practice, Luke drives him home. 

It’s not a big deal, Luke assures him, as he reaches around to buckle his seat belt. Ashton can’t turn down the offer. He’s eager to spend as much time as he possible can with Luke. While Luke drives, his eyes on the road, and his fingers tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel, Ashton traces the contours of Luke’s face with his gaze. When Ashton watched Luke from afar, Ashton thought that he was beautiful, but up—close, it’s a whole different story. Ashton’s eyes flickers across his face, trying to memorize his features — the pale skin, the sharp jawline, the nice collarbones, the curve of his neck.

The radio plays softly on low volume. A guy with a throaty voice sings about love. The grey light thickens outside the car window, dark clouds rolls across the sky.

It’s unbelievable that he’s sitting in a car with a boy he has liked for decades. It’s too good to be true.    


End file.
